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Their father had only remained at the secluded camp for three days. On the fourth day, he had left his boys at the school, no different from a father leaving his kids at college in the Western hemisphere. The difference? This new school was a college for terrorists.
Naveed, only sixteen and Zain, eighteen, were old enough to know their lives would never be the same ever again.
On the fourth night, Naveed and his brother found themselves trying to get to sleep on bunk beds placed less than three feet from one another in a bunkhouse filled with other boys as well as grown men. The brothers had been assigned lower bunks, which allowed them to talk in whispers without disturbing those who were more successfully getting some sleep.
“Why do you think father has brought us here?” Naveed asked.
Up to this point, the boys had never seen their father’s violent side. He had always been a loving and caring man to his sons, seldom finding a need to discipline them. They had rarely given him a need. They did what they were told and only ventured into areas where they could play and hunt safely. And they did all the chores required of them. Sure, their father and his men carried guns with them, but everyone in their encampment had carried guns since the boys were born. That didn’t seem any more out of the ordinary than wearing clothes.
“I think that this is a school,” Zain told his brother.
“Yes, but what kind of school?” Naveed asked.
At this camp, as part of their training, they would soon get further reading lessons and some limited continued education. The boys had been home schooled, or more precisely, cave schooled for most of their lives. Reading the Quran and articles brought home by their father was how they learned how to read. The articles their father brought home told of the great injustices brought upon them by the country of America. Always their father had had only bad things to say about the people of America. Recently, the boys had seen an increase in hate directed at the Americans from their father rather than at the Shias. That was a lot of hate.
Naveed’s question was still something Zain couldn’t answer. After all, really, what kind of school was this? Their father had only told them they would learn how to become men at this school.
Naveed looked over at his brother and whispered, “I’m scared, Zain.”
Zain reached across the space between their bunks and took his brother’s hand.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
And Zain kept that promise.
The boys remained at the training camp on Lake Tanda for four years. During that time, they learned the essentials every good jihadi should know, including how to make improvised exploding devices and the various ways to set them off. Many of their lessons involved electronics and radio signals. While students in a more traditional school might dissect a frog to learn what made them tick, the students of terrorism learned how to dissect a cell phone. They learned how to connect it to a bomb that could be detonated via a single phone call. There were new explosives to study. There were also new and improved methods of packaging old explosives to increase the destructive power.
The newer jihadi camps placed more emphasis on physical stamina—the ability to tough out bad circumstances. Arguably, the camp was the Marines of terrorism. The lake became a training ground. It was used in the same manner the Navy SEALs would utilize such an expanse of water. The boys learned how to swim, snorkel long distances, scuba dive and how to affix explosives onto the sides of various types of vessels. The new jihadi camps didn’t teach their students how to become martyrs. Dying for a cause was not part of the curriculum. No martyr ever took out two enemy ships. Just one. The camps not only emphasized how to get in, but also were committed to their students getting out alive to fight another day. The benefactor of the school put forth a great deal of time and money into training Allah’s soldiers. The students fully understood that dying for no good reason was unsustainable. Sure, the movement could throw men with lesser training at a target, but the results would likewise be diminished.
Zain and Naveed excelled at their training. They were smart, healthy, and strong. They had a good work ethic. The young men knew their father had brought them to the school for a reason, yet that reason hadn’t been given to them.
Their graduation didn’t resemble any type of commencement celebration the Western world would recognize. One day, unexpectedly, it was declared they had become men; their training was now over.
When they turned to look behind them, their father was standing there. They had not seen him in four long years. He looked a little older. A little gray had grown into his long beard. Never overly demonstrative, the boys smiled and hugged their father. He hugged them in return and smiled.
“It is good to see you boys,” he told his sons.
“We missed you, Father,” Naveed said and Zain echoed his brother’s sentiment.
“I am very proud of you, boys.” Their father stood back to have a better look at his sons. Both young men were now taller than him.
Farwan corrected himself with a laugh and said, “Or I should say, men? Yes, both of you have grown into strong men while I have been gone.” Their father regarded his sons admiringly, almost like this was the first time he had seen them. His sons continued smiling back at him.
Rahim was sitting at a table across from the boys. He stood to come over to shake Farwan’s hand. “You have some wonderful sons, Farwan,” he said while shaking the jihadist’s hand.
“Yes, thank you. Yes, I do,” he responded with pride.
Turning back to his sons he shared his plans for their immediate futures. “Now it is time for your next lessons. Naveed, you will join me on my missions; Zain, you will go to college in Switzerland.”
Zain couldn’t have been more surprised if his father had told him he was going to be shot into outer space.
Naveed slapped his brother on his shoulder and exclaimed, “Wow! Switzerland. Be sure to send me a Swiss watch.”
Zain didn’t know how to respond so he didn’t.
Naveed allowed the new direction of their lives to sink in a little before politely asking his father, “Why are you sending Zain to college and not me?”
It was an honest question and his father gave him an honest answer.
“Zain is older than you. This is important because he is of college age. We need him to get through school as quickly as possible so he can take the place Allah has chosen for him of managing a bank.”
Naveed looked unconvinced so his father added, “I also need at least one of my sons by my side. You will learn from me everything I know, and you can then pass it on to your own children. You have been selected to stay and learn how to be a leader so you can take over when Allah calls me to Paradise.
Naveed gave his father a smile of acceptance, but deep down he knew Zain was in line for a much better life than Naveed would ever have. Did it bother him? A little, but all he had known was the cave and the terrorist camp. Therefore, he didn’t really comprehend what better meant.